All that Jazz (A Roaring 20's adventure)
by jibber59
Summary: The Era of Flappers and Bootleg Booze. The classiest Speakeasy in town is The Ace of Spades. Gangsters rule and everyone else just goes along with it. Until three army buddies start up a Private Detective agency, with the help of a WW1 medic, a disillusioned preacher and a cub reporter. And when the owner of the Speakeasy gets involved, things get even more interesting.
1. Chapter 1

It certainly wasn't the most impressive looking office he'd ever seen. The rug was worn in a few spots and the furniture looked like it had come from a second-hand shop – for good reason. Some people might've said the wear gave the desk an interesting patina – a sense of character. Chris Larabee didn't think that way. The legs were level in the drawers all worked. He was happy with it. The office chairs didn't match and the only one with any semblance of comfort was for the clients. Assuming any ever showed up. He still wasn't convinced that would happen.

His new business partner had no doubts. Buck Wilmington had had to be talked into joining the partnership but once he made the decision, his optimism knew no bounds. That was typical. Even during the worst battles of the war Buck would find something positive to boost morale. It was at the same time one of his most endearing, yet irritating traits.

It was that optimism that had him out of the office now, in search of leads on the whereabout of the man they were hoping would become the third partner in this venture. Chris still couldn't believe he was sitting inside his own detective agency, even though the whole thing had been his idea. Not his first plan, not even his second. First had been to come home from the war and settle onto the family land with his wife and son. Ranching would be a hard living, but an honest one, and that mattered to him. The flu epidemic of 1918 took care of that dream. Adam had died first, with Sarah gone two days later. He'd been in the middle of some godforsaken battle fighting over a few acres of land. It was weeks later until he even found out. Now, even though it was five years later, the idea of working his own few acres still hurt him to his very soul. So, the land was being rented out. Not sold. He continued to harbour a faint hope that someday he'd be motivated enough to try again.

He'd wandered for a while, working other ranches, but that didn't suit him. If he was going to do that work, it needed to be on his terms. Any work needed to be on his terms. Which meant the idea of reenlisting was definitely out of the question, and he dismissed the notion before it was even a full thought. The next plan he did allow himself to consider was law enforcement. Some kind of sense of justice was needed in his life and it was the only avenue that made sense initially. It took him no time at all to discover just how off-track he was with that plan. Prohibition had done little more than shift the balance of power. No one drank any less, but now the proceeds lined the pockets of mobsters and gangsters. The criminal element controlled almost everything, including the police. He was looking for a way to make an honest living, and that clearly wasn't it.

The empty office caught his eye on the way home late one night. Private Detective. It sounded like something out of a dime-store novel. Surprisingly, it also sounded like a good idea. Especially if he could recruit one of his oldest friends into the fold. Buck had taken some convincing, but far less than expected. He'd had his own issues since leaving the service.

The war had left Wilmington restless. He'd yet to find another way to satisfy that need for action, to feed his adrenaline addiction. He travelled some, mostly as a mercenary, although there were some moderately more acceptable jobs as a body guard. But none of them ever quite seemed like the right fit. He always felt like he was selling a little bit of his soul each time he took on a new job, and he wasn't entirely sure he had all that much soul to spare. As a result, when he'd opened his door one day to find Chris Larabee standing there, offering him the most ludicrous option he'd heard yet, he was far more willing to go along with that than even he would have guessed.

By the time they'd actually moved into the office, the brainstorm had struck that they needed another member on the team. He'd been the one to suggest they tracked down Vin Tanner. Ironically, that exact job would have been so much easier if Vin had already been on board. Neither man had never seen a better scout. He could read the land and spotted an ambush or booby-trap long before anyone had a clue there was a problem. Add to that the fact the man was a born tracker – the kind who could find a two-year-old trail on a rock bed.

Tanner had been part of the squad with them in Europe for several months when he was transferred for a special mission. When word got back to them he was being dishonourably discharged a few weeks later, they were stunned. When news of the reason came – desertion, they were in complete shock. The notion that Vin Tanner would abandon his squad – would abandon anyone – in the heat of battle would have been laughable were it not so offensive. Unfortunately, there was no way they could come to his aid as they were shipped out to yet another battle of their own. By the time things had settled enough to try to find their former comrade, he had vanished. And when someone with his skills didn't want to be found, then they weren't going to be.

Chris and Buck had both earned enough brownie points with the brass that they were able to pull in favours and find out what had happened. Tanner had been separated from his squad, ahead of them scouting out the lay of the land. What none of them had been aware of was that the information that had led them to this spot had been a trap. In a matter of moments, the platoon had been wiped out. Vin had been far enough away not to have been killed, but the concussive force of the explosions had left him injured. He survived only with the help of some resistance members. By the time he returned to his division commander, the man that had sent them on the fatal mission, he had been marked as a deserter. Only the commander's desire to cover up his own role in sending the men into an ambush had saved Vin from a firing squad.

Months later, as stories from the resistance surfaced when the war ended, the truth came out, and Vin's name was cleared. The experience left him angry and bitter, and like many others disillusioned by the war, he distanced himself from what was laughingly referred to as respectable society. He found odd jobs along the way, and from time to time stayed in contact with the very select few of the men he had known. That was the avenue Buck hoped to use to track him now.

Any doubt that Vin was destined to be the third member of their team vanished in Buck's mind when he discovered the last place Vin had been heard from was just a couple of miles from the new office. It was in a poor part of town, one populated by the members of society who lived on the fringes – some by choice, but most by fate. There, they made their own community, and for the most part they were left alone. In this neighbourhood, the central gathering point was a drop-in centre operated by two more unlikely casualties of war.

Josiah Sanchez had been a chaplain in the Army. Initially there as a man of God, purportedly to offer prayer and comfort, the sights and experiences of Europe shook his faith, and shattered what he had thought was his future. Wounded in a battle while he offered last rites, he was rescued by Nathan Jackson, a stretcher bearer who was a far better medic than half the doctors over there. The hell they had been through brought the two men together and after the war both felt the need to find a way to help themselves, and others, heal. This centre, this sanctuary, became their mission. Food, basic medical care, comfort, counselling. Whatever they could find a way to offer, was made available to anyone who needed it. Those who used the services, and could afford to, made small payments. Those who couldn't afford it, well they weren't turned away. Nathan knew some of the funding came from local churches, and from a few community groups liked the idea of keeping this part of society tucked off to the side. He also knew there was more money coming in from somewhere but had no idea where. Josiah would simply smile and say that the Lord provided. Nathan found it amusing, given the fact that Josiah wasn't entirely certain the Lord even existed anymore.

Late on a Saturday evening, that was where Chris and Buck were headed. They hoped dinnertime at the clinic would be a good opportunity to find someone who might lead them to Tanner. Their journey to the destination was disrupted by the sounds coming from an alley way they passed.

They had no idea who it started the fight, or what it was about. They only knew one thing. Six against one was not fair odds. They could hear the young black man attempting to plead his case as he was being quickly boxed into a corner.

"You fellas know what this money is for. It ain't mine. You take this, and a lot of guys are going to go hungry."

"Yeah, but we won't. Give us the money boy."

The man stood a little straighter, a glint of defiance in his eyes. "I ain't your boy."

"You ain't gonna be anything in a minute."

"You fellas might want to rethink that." Buck drawled slowly. The six turned, ready to draw another man into the fight. They froze when they realized the were staring down two men, both well armed.

"This ain't your fight friends."

"It is now. And we aren't your friends. You have about ten seconds to get out of here, and I'd advise against coming back."

"Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"Name's Larabee. You'd do well to remember that." One of the six was foolish enough to believe he could beat the odds. He made a move for something his pocket and a moment later felt the scorch of a bullet through his arm.

"Next time I won't be so considerate. Your 10 seconds are almost up." If the single shot hadn't been enough incentive, Chris's glare finished the job. The six men bolted out of there.

"You alright?" Buck walked toward the young man.

"You ain't getting' this money either Mister."

"Relax. We don't want it. Name's Buck Wilmington. And you are?"

"Nathan Jackson. What are you doing around here?"

"Well, interestingly enough, looking for you." Chris had holstered his gun before he walked closer. "Understand you run a sort of shelter around here."

"You two don't look like you need in a place to put up for the night."

"Hoping you can help us find someone. Word is, he settled in around these parts."

Nathan relaxed somewhat, feeling more comfortable with the guns out of sight. "This friend of yours have a name, Mister – Larabee was it?"

He nodded. "Vin Tanner."

"Come with me gentlemen. I might be able to help you."

Ten minutes later they were settled in the kitchen at the centre. Buck took a sip of the coffee that had been offered to them, and quietly set it off to the side. He tasted worse, but it had been a long time.

"Mind if I ask why you're looking for this Tanner fellow?"

"We knew him. We owe him. Hoping to be able to offer him a job."

"You don't waste words, do you Mr. Larabee?"

"Name is Chris. And no. I don't."

Nathan smiled as he stood up. "You two wait here for a couple minutes. I'll see what I can find out. Josiah will likely be coming back here in a minute. Don't worry, he's not as scary as he looks."

They waited quietly for Nathan's return. In light of the problems they'd had earlier, both men were on alert when they heard the door open behind them. The light coming through it was almost blocked by the silhouette of the man entering.

"Reverend Sanchez? Is that you?" Buck stood up, grinning as he walked toward the man.

"Nobody's called me that for quite a number of years. Just go by Josiah now. Sorry son, can't say as I recollect your face."

Buck didn't take it personally. "Well for one thing, it didn't have a moustache at the time. We hooked up briefly during the war. You were praying over a lot of men that day, so I can't take offense that this handsome mug isn't familiar to you."

"Well, I hope I was able to offer some kind of comfort."

"I wasn't the one in need of it at the time. But I'm sure you helped the others."

Chris was about to speak when Nathan entered the room. "Well I see you folks have met. Now, if you come with me."

They walked out into the main hall and over towards the window where young man stood looking out. At the sound of the approaching footsteps he turned and stood at attention. "Captain Larabee. It's and honour to see you again, Sir."

"Relax Tanner, no one's in the service anymore. From what I hear, I'm surprised you'd bother to show any kind of respect for rank."

"Not showing respect for rank - Chris. Showing respect for the man that was in the uniform."

"We heard about the raw deal." Buck added, grabbing Vin's hand and shaking it hard. "Wish we could've done something at the time."

"There were bigger issues to worry about. It's over now."

"Is it?" Buck could hear there was still anger in Vin's voice when the subject came up.

Vin shrugged. "Let's just say it's done. Nathan tells me you folks are looking for me. Something about a job?"

Chris nodded to an empty table. "Why don't we all sit down. I think we have a few things to talk about."

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 ** _tbc_**


	2. Chapter 2

The determination on her face was inspiring, and just a little intimidating. Chris found himself transfixed by her unwavering stare and realized with a start he was not focusing on everything she was saying. He hoped Buck had been paying a bit more attention to the details. He also hoped the recap he was about to try wasn't going to be too far off.

"Let me understand this Mrs. Travis. You want us to try to figure out who was responsible for your husband's death, even though it happened over 6 months ago, and even though the police investigation has determined it was an accident."

She laughed humourlessly at the final part of his question. "The police don't investigate – they merely write up reports to suit the orders given. I promised Stephen's father I would wait for an official result, but this is beyond ridiculous. The man they now say was driving the car is not even the same one who is in the original report."

"And you're sure it had something to do with his job?" Buck asked, fully aware that Chris needed some of the facts repeated, and equally aware of why. He was glad to see his friend taking a bit of interest in the choice bit of calico who sat in the room. He just wished the man had better timing. And with all the attractive women around, leave it to him to find a feisty, independent thinking widow! This bearcat had probably been part of this whole ridiculous suffrage movement as well. He just hoped she wasn't involved in the temperance league.

"He was a reporter investigating corruption – what do you think?"

"Why doesn't your father-in-law doesn't share your passionate opinion on the matter?"

She looked at Chris, beginning to wonder if he'd been paying attention, or if these questions were some kind of effort to trip her up for some reason. "As I said, he doesn't want me involved in the matter. Claims he can take care of the matter."

"You don't believe him."

Mary Travis sighed softly, allowing herself to settle back into the seat. "What I believe is that he is concerned my 'passion' as you call it, is endangering my life, and that of my son. I tend to think he may be right, which is why Billy was put on a train this morning to stay with my parents in New York for a while. At least that way Orin can't say I am putting his grandson in harm's way."

"And yourself?" Chris asked with concern.

"I can take care of myself."

"Against gangsters, and if you're right, murderers?" Chris challenged protectively.

"Mrs. Travis," Buck intervened before things got too heated, "assuming we can find something out, what do you expect to do about it? If things are as crooked as you claim-"

"They are."

"Then what good will identifying anyone do? Unless you are expecting us to look to even the score _." It wouldn't be my first time,_ he thought to himself.

"With evidence, I can go to the federal authorities. I can't be sure it will help, but I have to try."

Chris stood from behind the desk. "I don't like it. I think we may be putting you into more danger, but I doubt that fact is going to deter you. I want to talk to your father-in-law."

"I don't need his permission."

"No, you don't. But we might need any information he has. He says he can take care of this – I want to know why he thinks that. Can you get him to come by here, or do we need to find him?"

She reigned in her temper. "I think I can get him to come by. Thank you, Mr. Larabee."

"Don't thank me. I'm not sure we are doing you any favour here. I need you to give me a list of everyone who Stephen might have talked to, either as a lead, suspect or source. It's a cold trail, so this could take some time."

"Your best bet would probably be at the paper. There was a young runner there he used to talk about. I imagine he is still at the paper but can't be sure. He'd know the people Stephen dealt with and likely still has his notes on all of it. He may even have a clue as to what happened to Stephen's notebook. His name is JD Dunne."

"Notebook?" Chris paused on his way to seeing her out.

"He always kept notes on everything. Very thorough. Last time I saw his last book, there were other papers bound to it. It wasn't with him when he died, and I've not been able to find any sign of it."

Buck stood as well, stepping over to open the door for their first client. "I'll look up this Dunne kid and see what I can find out."

"You may find him a little overwhelming. Stephen used to say he had the energy of 10 people, with nothing controlling it."

"Sounds interesting." He smiled as she turned back to Chris.

"Thank you for taking me seriously. Stephen deserves to have this settled, and Billy deserves to know his father died honourably."

"We'll do what we can to see that that happens."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Travis took a seat in across from Chris, casting a quick eye around the sparsely furnished surroundings. "Still setting up your business I presume?"

"No, things are pretty much the way we plan. Don't need much to ask questions." Buck answered. Chris was too busy focusing on their guest, waiting him out.

Travis accepted the unspoken challenge for authority and started the conversation. "I'm quite convinced this is a waste of all of our time gentlemen, but I find it very difficult to say no to my daughter-in-law."

"She didn't tell me you are a federal judge."

"You have a problem with that?"

"Don't know. Don't know you." Chris answered honestly.

"I can tell you I'm pretty sure I'm at least a good part of the reason my son is dead. A reporter and a judge trying to root out corruption. Makes for a lot of enemies."

"And now you want us to go after the guys." Buck asked. "Isn't that with the law is for?"

Travis stared at him. "I am not the one asking you to go after anyone. And as for your question, the law can't be entirely trusted. Therein lies the problem. Washington is looking at setting up a new agency to go after these crooks but so far that's just talk."

"Bureaucracy in law enforcement. Yeah that should work."

"You seem to be quite cynical, Mr. Larabee."

"Just realistic. I'm not gonna become some federal agent chasing booze and guns and God knows what else. Not in this lifetime."

"Didn't imagine you would. At least not yet. Besides, like I said, Washington is working on it, but it will take at least a couple of years. They set up couple of pilot projects a test this out. One in Chicago, another New York."

"Chicago? They're going after the big boys."

"Gonna try."

"What you want from us?"

"As I said, nothing. This is Mary's idea, not mine. I've got my sources working on this. Getting closer, for all the good it will do." Chris waited silently for an explanation. "I am fairly certain who was responsible for my son's death. Could likely prove it if I could trust the evidence wouldn't go missing or be destroyed. Would also probably get a few people killed in the process. Don't need to add you two to that list.

"Who are the targets?"

"Well, aside from myself, I have Mary and Billy to worry about. Then there's that reporter kid that Stephen had running errands. Good kid. Naïve as could be, but bright and eager. Dunne, I think his first name is John. Stephen usually referred to him as JD, or Kid."

"Your daughter-in-law mentioned him. Why is he a target?"

"What he knows or might know. And they probably think he has Stephen's notes."

The phrasing caught Buck's ear. " **Think** he has them?"

"I don't believe he does, at least not all of them. But he is implying to anyone he talks to that he knows about them. That could get him killed quickly."

Buck nodded his understanding. "Well, if we do nothing else, I'll see about straightening him out."

"Okay, who else. You have a man on the inside?" Chris wanted every detail he could get before going any further into this. He was having doubts about the viability of the exercise.

Travis hesitated for a moment before cautiously answering "I have someone who has been known to share information when the opportunity presents itself."

"A stool-pigeon? And you trust him?"

"Absolutely, which surprises me more than I can tell you."

"You're sure about him? He could be the reason your son is dead."

"No. He tried to save Stephen and damn near paid with his own life. Then he almost got killed again when they took a shot at killing me. He hadn't pulled me out of the way of that car, I'd be dead.

"Two car accidents. These guys aren't exactly imaginative."

"No, Mr. Wilmington. But as a rule, they are efficient."

"On the scene of both so called accidents. And you still think you can trust this informant of yours?"

Travis didn't have to even consider the question. "He had nothing to do with this. I would – I have – staked my life on it."

"Being there hasn't exposed him? Put him on your target list?"

Travis shook his head. "Let's just say no one would have recognized him on either occasion. He can blend in, when he wants to. Bit of a chameleon that way."

There was silence in the room for several minutes as Chris mulled over what little they knew. Travis lit a cigar while he waited. Chris finally pushed himself up from the desk. "OK, with or without your help, we will look into this. You can let Mrs. Travis know that we'll do what we can. But I'd advise her against getting her hopes up. Corruption runs damn deep around here, and we don't have a lot of connections we can trust at this point."

"You really believe the two of you can make a difference?"

Buck smiled. "We can try. Keeps us out of trouble."

"Somehow, I don't see that as the truth."

Buck's smiled broadened in agreement. "Oh, and for the record, it's three of us." _At least for now_ , he added silently.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Buck turned into the alley, knowing what to expect. He stayed close to the wall, allowing a bit of cover between himself and the youngster he'd been following. Dunne had spotted the tail fairly quickly, which was a point in his favour. He was sloppy trying to lose him though, and when that failed, was painfully obvious about 'luring' Buck into what he no doubt saw as a secure setting.

"Pulling a gun on a stranger is one damn fast way to get yourself killed." Buck spoke calmly, hoping to settle the excitable young reporter.

"How come you're following me?"

"Well, if it was to kill you, I've had a couple of dozen chances. Including now."

"My gun is drawn, yours ain't. How do you figure on having the advantage?"

"I should charge for lessons, but I'll give you this for free. You never shoot from the hip like that when you have a choice. You don't have the experience to know where you're aiming, and odds are damn good you won't come close to a kill shot. Aim low, hit low. Of course, that could do some unpleasant damage to a man, so I would prefer you didn't squeeze the trigger and prove me right."

"Would still put you down." Dunne replied, not quite as confident as he'd been a moment before and hoping that fact wasn't obvious.

"Not if I shoot you first." The gun was in Buck's hand before JD had a hope of responding. He was smart enough to know this stranger wouldn't miss. Yet absurdly, he didn't feel intimidated any more.

"Haven't said why you're following me."

"No, I haven't. You did a decent job spotting me. The rest of your routine needs work. Got some questions for you about Stephen Travis."

"I'm a reporter. I ask questions, I don't answer them."

"You've never had a byline, or as far as I can find, even a story. So, not really a reporter, are you?"

JD's gaze narrowed. "Just who the hell are you?"

"Attitude – good. You need more of that. Come on. I'll buy you a coffee and we can get to know each other."

For reasons he couldn't explain, JD followed him. A few minutes later they were settled into a booth at the diner. Buck wouldn't have been surprised to hear the kid order a milk shake, but they both ended up with coffee and pie.

"You looking to end up as the headline in that paper of yours kid?"

"Name is Mr. Dunne – not kid."

"OK then, MR. Dunne. You got your obituary ready?"

JD paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "What are you talking about?"

"You let folks get the idea you have something they want, and they will come and take if from you. And when you won't, or can't, give it to them – well let's just say folks like these aren't exactly forgiving." Buck took a bite of his own pie, waiting for the response.

"What makes you so sure I don't have it. Whatever 'it' you're talking about."

He chuckled. "Because it would long since have been front page on that rag you call a paper. I'm not messing with you here kid – sorry – Mr. Dunne. If you think I am, then you believe what happened to your pal Travis was an accident, and somehow I don't think you're that stupid."

An anger Buck hadn't anticipated coloured JD's face. "Wasn't no accident. Bastards killed him. And I'm going to find out who and how."

"That's the talk that will get you dead in a hurry."

That just fanned the anger. "I can take care of myself. I'm always packing heat, and I know how to use it."

Buck forced himself not to laugh at the bravado. "Not based on what I've seen so far."

"What are you talking about?"

"Told you - you shoot from the hip, which will get you killed damn fast. You need to take a second to aim and get it right, and for God's sake you gotta keep undercover."

"Who are you to tell me…"

"I'm the guy who's been doing it for years, and is still here to talk about it."

JD slouched back into the seat, pushing what was left of the pie off to the side. A moment later, he straightened himself up and tried to stare Buck down. "So just who the hell are you, and why were you looking for me anyway?"

He looked at the defiant young man in front of him. More guts than brains, but still – there was something he liked about him. Liked enough to make a decision. "Name is Buck Wilmington, and I am about to become your best friend - Kid."

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 ** _tbc_**


	3. Chapter 3

Chris stood in front of the door, refusing to take another step. When he'd gone to visit Josiah and Nathan to find out if they'd heard any word on the street in the past few months about Stephen Travis, he'd been disappointed, but not surprised, by the negative response. He'd allowed himself a moment of optimism when the former preacher said he might be able to make an introduction that could help out. "Does everyone in this town have connections?" he'd asked, only half joking.

"Without them, you don't get to far. I will give you warning. You'll need to keep an open mind, or this will just be a waste of time."

Chris shrugged. "If you've got it to waste, so do I."

Twenty minutes later they were in the last place Chris had expected.

"I cannot believe you brought us here! Are you nuts Josiah?"

"Trust me Chris. If there is anything going on in this town that Standish doesn't know about, then it's not worth knowing."

"It's a damned speakeasy!"

Josiah grinned. "Of course it is. That's kind of the point." He tried to drop the smile to appease Chris but couldn't complete hide it. "Look, I get that you don't approve –"

"Approval isn't the issue. This is illegal."

"Have you always been wound this tight? Standish doesn't serve alcohol during the day, so at the moment, it is nothing but a member's only club. And, for reasons far to complex to delve into right now, I am a member, so come on."

Josiah knocked on the door and the small viewing window slid open and closed quickly. The door swung open and to Chris's disbelief, someone larger than Josiah stood on the other side.

"Good day Gentlemen, welcome to The Ace of Spades."

"Hey Tiny. How are you doing?"

"Excellent, as always Mr. Sanchez. Table for four?" He eyed the men carefully, relaxing only slightly when he decided there was no immediate cause for concern.

"Please. And could you let Ezra – sorry, Mr. Standish – know I'd like a word with him, if he is free?"

"Not certain if he is in yet. It is rather early for him." Chris looked at his watch when Tiny spoke. It was nearly three in the afternoon. This was early? "I'll check for you. This way please." He led them over to the hostess, who smiled flirtatiously as she led them to a quiet spot near the back corner.

"Early?" Buck asked with the same disbelief Chris had.

"Keep in mind, this place does stay open late." Josiah stopped speaking as coffees were brought to the table. Chris took a sniff before tasting, wanting to be certain it hadn't been flavored in any way.

Josiah shook his head. "I told you – no alcohol this early in the day, unless you happen to get invited into his office. That rarely happens."

They sipped at the coffee in silence for a few minutes as Chris took careful note of his surroundings. The club was nothing like what he had imagined it would be. While looking small from the outside, that, like most things involving Ezra Standish, did not reflect the reality. There were dozens of small tables spread in the room, while each corner location was occupied by a gaming table. Close enough to keep the feeling intimate but spaced enough for privacy. The room itself was warm feeling, with dark wood paneling and carpeting underfoot that added helped maintain the quiet atmosphere. The décor was surprisingly understated, and his face must have reflected his thoughts, since Josiah felt the need to comment.

"Not the image you had?"

"I'll admit, it's classier than I expected for this kind of joint."

"Don't let him hear you call it a joint. Whatever else Ezra may or may not be, he is a southern gentleman. At least, so he insists. Of course, a couple of the private rooms might be more in line with what you were expecting."

"Private rooms?" Vin looked around, noting the roped off hallways.

"For special guests to host parties and the like."

Chris's face clouded over again. "Prostitutes?"

"Not that he supplies. What goes on in there those rooms can get pretty wild from what I hear, but everyone is willing."

"So he claims." Buck challenged.

"Only time I've ever heard of any real trouble here is when folks get out of hand in there. If they are lucky, they just get thrown out on their asses and removed from the welcome list."

Chris wasn't sure he believed that and said so.

"Well, there was baron of industry – real upstage type – who argued with Ezra about it. It was three weeks till he got out of hospital. Still walks with a limp."

"Tiny beat him up?" Vin could picture the scene.

"No. Ezra did." They all looked at him in surprise and got a decent laugh out of Josiah at the response.

"Still, it's pretty obvious he's got his grubby paws into everything."

"Hardly grubby Mr. Larabee. I take great pride in my grooming and appearance."

The carpeting had kept them from hearing Ezra's arrival. "Putting up a front?" Chris replied.

"That would be the very definition of a wasted effort. Who I am is evident to anyone who takes even a moment to consider."

"Gangster, hood, thief, murderer."

"I take exception to those claims Mr. Wilmington. I will concede to having done a great number of things in my life that are well outside any accepted social norms. However, I am not a gangster. I do not randomly attack and victimize the innocent. And I am not a thief – I earn what I take. And I am most decidedly not a murderer."

"You've never killed anyone?" Leave it to these cretins to focus on that.

"That is not what I stated. Yes, I have taken a life. More than one. The actions were in self defence." Or in military service or the defence of others, but those aspects of his history and character were best kept secret wherever possible.

"So, what do you call yourself?" Vin asked, surprised to find he felt connection to this man. Somewhat of a kindred spirit he thought. He was certain there was more here than met the eye.

"Entrepreneur, perhaps? Gambler assuredly would be appropriate, and I would be both pleased and honoured to host you at my table Mr. Tanner."

"He's not stupid enough to play a man with a marked deck." Chris growled.

"Please. Bring your own cards."

"Mirrors? Spotters?"

"I said I am a gambler. I am also, scoff though you will, a gentleman. I rarely bet when I can't win, but there are myriad of ways to ensure that, and that list does not include cheating. Skill being the most obvious, and in my case, appropriate."

Josiah nodded. "I've watched him play. If he cheats Chris, he's the best that there's ever been."

"I shall accept that as the compliment you no doubt intended it to be Mr. Sanchez. So, gentlemen, Tiny said you wished to speak with me? Is this concerning the establishment of your new venture? A detective agency in this town could be a very lucrative adventure, if you play your cards correctly. Perhaps you are interested in my businessman's discounts."

"You seem to know a fair bit about us. Names, business. What else?"

He leaned back casually against a chair at the next table. "Whatever I need to know. As you suggested, I have a great number of interests and concerns, and find that it is always preferable to have as much information at hand as is possible."

"What information do you have about Stephen Travis?"

"Ah, that is the purpose of your visit. Well, I know he was an excellent reporter, and apparently far too inquisitive for his own good. It is tragic to see a young man cut down in his prime in such a violent manner."

"To see it? You were there?" Buck's suspicious nature picked up on the phrase.

"A figure of speech, I assure you."

Josiah figured it was a good time to bring things under control. "They're working for his widow Ezra. Anything you can tell them would help. I'd consider it a favour."

The trio watched the silent communication between the two unusual friends. Chris couldn't figure out what the men could possibly have as a bond, but something was clearly there. After a moment Ezra gave the smallest of nods.

"As I indicated gentlemen, I have only a passing acquaintance with the circumstances. However, I am willing to ask a few discreet questions to determine if there is further information to be ascertained."

"You always talk in $5 words, Pard?"

"No. I usually prefer a higher currency."

Chris grinned with no humour. "All about the currency with you – isn't it?"

"It is all about making sure my needs are met, whatever they may be. On that matter gentlemen, you will excuse me. I have business to attend to."

They watched the dapper gambler depart without a glance back at them. He nodded briefly at the other guests but didn't stop to chat with any of them. A few words were spoken quietly to Tiny, and then he was gone.

"There goes a very complex character." Vin noted.

"Oh, my friend," Josiah counselled, "you have no idea."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Josiah had cleared the last of the dinner plates and was starting to sweep up when he heard the door opening. The tap of a walking stick told him who it was without having to turn around. "Not like you to leave The Ace during peak business hours."

"And it is not like you to bring private investigators into The Ace. I thought we had a better understanding than that."

"I don't think these guys are your typical P.I.s. Ezra." Josiah was one of the very few who didn't call him Mr. Standish. At least one of the very few who could get away with it. "Figured you'd be able to help them out."

"I don't help people out. You continue to cast aspersions upon my character."

"Doing no such thing. You may not have a heart of gold, but don't forget I know you better than most folks do son."

"Some day I shall break you of the habit of referring to me that way."

Josiah chuckled softly. "Don't count on it." Ezra grimace, prompting another chuckle. "I do not understand why you are so dead set against having anyone know just how much you contribute to this neighbourhood. To this city."

The warm green eyes quickly turned to ice. "What I choose to do, or not do, and the reasons why, is of no concern to anyone else, Mr. Sanchez. Do I make myself clear?"

Josiah continued as if Ezra hadn't said a word. "There's the soup kitchens - at least two of them. I know you've helped out with supplies for the hospital and a couple of clinics. Hell, Nathan and me would be out of business within the month."

"Keep talking, and you will be."

"Folks should know."

"To what end? They would only expect more. Or be suspicious of my motivations. It would serve no purpose and would likely do serious and irreparable damage to my reputation."

Josiah nodded. "Can't have folks thinking you're soft."

"In my line, that could be a fatal error."

"It's not right." Josiah said sadly. He looked over at his young friend, who at the moment looked uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Don't suppose you'd care to unburden some of your reasoning to me?"

"Thank you Mr. Sanchez. In the extremely unlikely circumstance that I find myself in need of a confessor, your counsel will be the first I seek."

Josiah didn't expect that would be happening any time soon. Or any time at all. "All I can tell you is that I haven't told Larabee, or anyone else, a single thing about you that I don't believe to be completed true."

"Your beliefs are not necessarily facts. You would do well to remember that, and carry on accordingly."

"I don't believe you're threatening Josiah." Nathan entered in time to hear the final comment.

"Not threatening him Mr. Jackson, merely advising him."

"We don't need your advice. Or anything else from you."

"I am pleased to know that."

"Don't need you around here at all. So why don't you just get the hell out?"

"Nathan!" Josiah was appalled at the manners of his colleague.

"What? We don't need his type here. We spend our time and energy trying to find a way to keep these men away from drinking and losing all their money to crooks like him."

Ezra held up a hand to stop Josiah's intended intercession. "Please Mr. Sanchez. Your associate is not incorrect in the characterization."

"You are not a crook."

"I most certainly am a criminal, although to date the hard hand of the law has been unable to prove anything."

"Payoffs have that effect." Nathan snapped back. "Why'd you come to Denver anyway? Shouldn't you be back in Georgia, or New Orleans. Or did the law run you out of there?"

"No. Other forces influence my departure."

"Bigger crooks?" Nathan asked with a smirk.

"No, the KKK." Nathan's face paired perfectly with his stunned silence. "Yes Mr. Jackson. We have a common enemy. That particular lunatic fringe of society has no more love for gamblers and moonshiner's than it does for your people. Burned down my last establishment." His voice was tinged with a sadness he rarely displayed.

"Lost your liquor supply, likely your cash?" The smirk was back. "All you hold dear."

"Yes. All I held dear." Ezra could still see the face of the lovely woman who had managed the club he'd owned there. He was never going to forgive himself for his failure to share his feelings with Inez, and now that fire had rendered it all moot.

Nathan caught the hit of melancholy and glanced at Josiah, whose face sent the clear message to shut up. By the time he looked back, Ezra's expression was neutral.

"Well gentlemen, I shall follow Mr. Jackson's wishes and depart for the moment. I'm certain our paths will cross again." Ezra tapped his fingers to his forehead and he smiled broadly as he left.

Josiah shook his head in disappointment as he turned to his partner. "Not usually like you to be so judgmental Nathan."

"Can't help at Josiah. Don't trust that man and for the life of me I cannot understand why you do."

"There's generally speaking more to a man than what's on the surface."

"Yeah, but most people tend to put their best at the surface. If this is his best, I don't want to know what he's hiding."

"What he's hiding is his business. But one thing I can guarantee you, Ezra Standish is not 'most people'."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

It was closing in on midnight. The three men sat in the office lit only by a desk lamp. There was nothing for them to be looking at, and the darkness fit the mood.

"You really think we can do anything about this mess?" Buck leaned back on the rickety office chair. Vin watched, expecting the big guy to go on his ass any moment, but he seemed to have the neck for relaxing. Chris set behind his own desk, having finished looking over the few notes he'd written out. They really didn't have much information to go on at this point. That there were crooked cops was no surprise to anyone. The concern was, for a few it was more than just taking a few bucks to look the other way. Some of law enforcement's finest were actively participating in everything from running prostitution rings to smuggling, protection rackets and blackmail. And, if the judge was right about his son, murder.

The information but got from the eager young writer was a start, but Chris couldn't see what that it had been enough to get Stephen killed. It pointed them in a few towards a few options, but the details were far too thin.

"You sure the kid gave you everything he had?"

"Trust me, he is beyond eager to please. If he expects to last, he's going to have to smarten up fast." Buck grimaced. "If he doesn't, he won't be around too long."

"Didn't know better, I'd say that idea bothered you." Chris teased.

A small shrug proceeded the response. "Reminds me of some of the kids on the front line. Excited about the romance of it all, and with no idea how hard the reality can really slam into them."

"Getting sentimental in your old age?" Vin was now doing the teasing.

"Screw off."

Chris was too tired for this crap. "Okay, can we get back to the task at hand? What else can we look at to figure this out."

"Josiah and Nathan might've heard more talk. We could check in with them again."

"I don't want to raise suspicions around them."

"Nah, lots of people come and go all the time." Vin assured him. "I think they're starting to see me as a regular there now."

"Okay, you check in with them tomorrow. Buck, go talk to Dunne again. There must be more he can add."

Wilmington didn't agree but knew better than to argue with Chris when he was this cranky. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna go back and talk to Standish again."

Buck looked at him in surprise. "Why?"

"He's on the inside, obviously."

"No, he's on the other side. He won't talk to us."

"He will if he sees it is being his best interest. Pretty sure that's his primary concern."

Vin shook his head. "Not certain, but I'm betting this more there than it looks."

"Could be. Doesn't matter though. I don't trust him as far as I can throw them."

Buck tilted his chair back again. "Which begs the question again, why?"

"Because he someone we just might be able to use. He's conniving and underhanded which are two traits that might come in handy."

"Doesn't strike me as a man who likes to be used."

"He'll never know."

"Oh, I doubt that." Vin replied as he stood to head home. That put him in the best position to see the car speeding toward the office and climbing the sidewalk. A moment later the window shattered as a grenade was thrown into the room.

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 _ **tbc**_


	4. Chapter 4

All three men dove at the same time, all grabbing at the explosive. Buck's hand found it first and he spun to throw it back out. A second before releasing it he registered the fact he had no idea who else might be out on the street. He turned back, throwing the device with full force into the small back room before joining the others in diving under the furniture. They all stared, not breathing. Waiting. And waiting. Buck figured close to a minute had passed since the window broke when he decided to stand up. He thought back to the grenade.

"I won't swear to it, 'cause it's been a while since I held one, but I don't think that was heavy enough."

"Somethings wrong with it, or we wouldn't be standing here talking about it." Vin concurred. Chris had already headed to the back room, and a moment later came back with the device. He turned the bottom to the men. They could see a small red 'x' marked there.

"A dud." Buck stated the obvious. It wasn't uncommon for faulty devices to be marked so they could be used for drills or training. In the heat of the moment, the mark understandably was not noted.

"A warning, or did somebody make a mistake?" Vin wondered.

Buck tried to find a positive spin on it. "We must be annoying somebody, else why would this have happened?"

Chris growled deep in his throat. "Standish. I'm gonna kill the bastard."

"Whoa – that's a bit of a leap." Vin countered.

"Really? A few hours after we talk to him this happens. You don't see a connection?"

Buck agreed with Vin. "You're forgetting, we spent the rest of the afternoon walking the streets and asking questions. Not to mention the past day and a half. Lots of possibilities there."

Chris rubbed his hands over his face, reluctantly accepting the logic. "Yeah – guess so." He thought about further. "Besides, can't say I see this as his style, and the man does seem to be all about style."

"Go home Chris. Get some sleep." Buck shoved him toward the door. "I'll grab a few boards from the back alley and clean this up. Tomorrow, we start again."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

It was getting late in the afternoon of a day that had been about as unproductive as any that Chris could remember. No one seemed any too willing to talk to them about Travis, or corruption, or pretty much any other subject they brought up. Obviously word was out that they were off limits.

Given the choice between wasting time and energy on the street, or heading back to wait for the guy they had called to fix the window, Chris chose option B. He'd been too agitated to get much sleep after the incident the previous evening and wasn't in any frame of mind to try to question folks politely. He'd taken the car back to the office, declaring Buck could get a ride later on the back of Vin's Indian Scout. Buck didn't look thrilled with that, not being a big fan of motorcycles, and Vin didn't seem too excited about the extra rider either. Chris didn't really care.

He was putting some paperwork into the file boxes in the closet when he heard the door. "Didn't hear Vin's motorcycle Buck. You walk –". He cut himself off when he realized he had unexpected company.

Chris was reasonably certain he was supposed to be intimidated by the number of men his new guest had with him. The effect was just the opposite. Anyone who needed this much back-up was likely someone who was fundamentally a bully and a coward. Still, he did realize that with Buck out of the office, a fact he had inadvertently shared, he was outgunned. Discretion was definitely in order. He moved over to his chair, leaning back and putting his boots on the desk.

"Can I help you?"

"More likely the other way around Larabee. Understand you've been looking into things that don't really concern you."

"Who's asking?"

"Forgot, you're fairly new around her. Detective Henderson, Denver PD.

"Law enforcement's finest."

He chose to ignore the clear sarcasm. "Doing you the courtesy of warning you off before things get unpleasant."

"Just doing my job."

"No, sounds like you think you are doing my job, and that is not a good idea. You need to back away from anything on the Travis case."

"Got something to hide?"

"You like living dangerously, don't you cowboy?"

The boots came off the table and Chris stood. "You really just call me cowboy?"

Henderson smirked, but the look froze on his face when a voice came from the back room.

"Yeah, he did." Vin walked out with his weapon drawn, pointed just far enough down that no one would be able to claim he was aiming on them.

"He really hates being called cowboy." Buck added from the side door, cocking his shotgun.

The detective offered a weak grin. "Then he shouldn't wear the boots. Look, gentlemen. I think we all got off on the wrong foot here. I simply wanted to advise you against interfering in a police investigation."

"Our information is that your case is closed." Chris took a couple of slow steps closer.

Henderson held his ground, despite the overwhelming instinct to step back. "Had to tell that to the widow. She was pestering us most every day. Women don't understand how this world really works. Had to try to settle the little lady."

"So, you **haven't** closed the case."

"Let's just say we remain open to possibilities."

"Well then, let's us just say we are looking into finding some of those possibilities for you. We'll be sure to let you know anything we find of interest." Chris gave a small nod to Buck, who stepped over and opened the door to usher the cops out. He closed it firmly behind him.

"Think we just got ourselves a new enemy."

Chris went back to his seat and opened the thin file. "What we got was the first clear sign of who we are looking for. All we need now is to prove it."

"Well hell," Vin grinned, "is that all?"

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Chris wasn't happy about being back at the Ace of Spades for any number of reasons, not the least of which was the overwhelmingly tempting aroma. The bar was definitely open this time, and the smell of good whiskey was quickly weakening his resolve. It was bad enough that coming here was basically putting him in the suave criminal's debt. He really did not want Standish getting any clue as to how tempting the thought of a decent drink was to him.

He scoped out the room, taking in as many faces and voices as he could. You never knew when a bit of knowledge of this sort could come in handy. He recognized a lot of faces. A lot of people who really shouldn't be here, from politicians to the husband of the local temperance league president. He couldn't help but wonder why these men were so willing to trust someone like Standish to keep their presence a secret.

He slipped back into the shadows a bit further when the establishment's owner entered the room. Standish stood quietly in the doorway for a moment. He was, as always, dressed to the nines. The tailored burgundy jacket flattered him, and at the same time hid the gun Chris was certain he had on him. He'd be a fool to go unarmed, and there was no way this man was a fool. He carried an elegant walking stick, even though Chris could see reason it was needed. Brass handled, and a rich mahogany cane. Nothing about him was subtle.

A commotion at a corner poker table caught the attention of both men. The young waitress looked upset, trying to pull herself away from the groping hands of a patron who had imbibed far more than he should. Chris was ready to step out if things went too far but hoped to be able to hold off and see how Standish handled the matter. His curiosity spiked when they young lady pulled back enough for him to see the troublemaker in question was Deputy Mayor Andrew Watson.

Standish was at the gaming table in a few quick steps. The room quieted enough for the conversation to be clear.

"I'm sorry Mr. Standish…" she began. He silenced her with a look that was far more gentle than anyone might have expected.

"Thought this was a full-service establishment Ezra." Watson slurred out. "This tasty little skirt is being most uncooperative."

Ezra smiled coldly at the drunk. "The **lady** is not one of the services offered. I have informed you of that before and warned you what would happen should you try to force yourself again."

"Ah, now don't be like that. We were just having a bit of fun." He reached out and slapped her bottom, prompting a soft cry from her, and rapid movement from Standish. In just seconds the deputy mayor was pinned to the wall with the point of the walking stick wedged tightly under his chin.

"When I release you, you will offer an apology to the **lady**. I suggest you make a concerted effort to ensure it is as sincere as humanly possible, and it will be her option whether or not to accept it. You might want to pray that she does. If and when that happens, you will pick up your coat, and half of your winnings, and you will leave this establishment. If you are foolish enough to ever try to return, Tiny will be more than happy to explain to you the error of that decision. Any questions?"

"Half?" he gasped out.

"The balance is a punitive levy. A portion of that will allow the charming Miss Casey to have the remainder of the evening, and tomorrow, off, along with a pleasant meal, to recover from this encounter. If she requires additional time, I shall be in touch with you to make the necessary arrangements. Any further questions?" His tone left no doubt questions would be a bad idea.

Getting a small shake of the head as response, Ezra stepped back, never taking his eye off the subject, who moved to gather his possessions. "You have missed a step in the process." Ezra's voice was low, and deeply unsettling.

Watson grabbed for a glass but was stopped by the walking stick landing firmly on his wrist. He cleared his throat with a dry cough and turned. "My deepest apologies young lady. My actions were unforgivable."

"Thank you." Casey answered quietly.

When he got an approving nod, Watson gathered his possessions with his one good hand, mumbling angrily. Chris couldn't make out what was being said, but clearly Ezra did.

"I would advise against any such thoughts Mr. Watson. In the unlikely event you succeed, retribution would come from avenues you might never suspect." He watched the humiliated politician scurry out the door under Tiny's intimidating supervision before turning to the crowd. "And that concludes this evening's floor show ladies and gentlemen. Please return to the enjoyment of your activities."

He took the waitress gently by the arm, leading her off to the side. Again, Chris could not hear what was being said, but was surprised to see him pass her a handkerchief after wiping what he could only assume was a tear from her face. He watched her nod shyly, then head over toward the employee door. A minute later she returned wearing her coat, and Tiny showed her out the door.

In the time that had taken, Ezra made his way to Chris's hidden observation post. "Tell me Mr. Larabee, did you find the diversion to be entertaining?"

"Educational. Just what have you got in the tip of that stick?"

"Nothing at all. I cannot be held accountable for the erroneous assumptions of others when they elect to perceive a threat where none exists."

Chris grinned wryly. "Can see what Josiah meant about you."

"Listening to Mr. Sanchez can lead to any number of misconceptions. I would advise against taking him at his word."

"Well, between a preacher and a gambler, I'm pretty sure who I'd believe."

Ezra's smile was broad enough for Chris to catch a brief glint of gold. The man definitely had a unique flare.

"I know an excellent glazier to address the little problem you have with your front window, should you need a referral."

Chris glared at him. "And you know about that how?"

"You will find, if you hadn't already formed the conclusion, that there is little I am not aware of in this town. At least, little of interest."

"You know in advance?"

It was Ezra's turn to glare. "I was of the impression I had previously addressed your accusation that I was some sort of thug, to use the colloquial vernacular. I was neither aware of, nor a party to, the activity."

"No offense intended Standish."

"Offense taken Mr. Larabee. I have done nothing to inspire your distrust of me and resent the implied message therein."

Chris was flabbergasted by the nerve the man had. "Are you kidding me? You've admitted to being a criminal."

"Convenient labeling. Besides, in this town, in this era – who isn't? Now, to what do I owe the privilege of your company? Have you reconsidered your stand on abstinence?"

Chris glared for a moment. "We need to talk."

"For what reason?"

"Could make it worth your while."

"No, I don't believe you could."

"Nevertheless, I'd like to talk to you privately."

Ezra felt more than uncomfortable under the glare and had the unsettling sensation that Larabee knew that, despite his firmly entrenched poker face. "I presume asking you to make an appointment would be out of the question?"

Chris answered with a quiet glare and tilt of his head. Reluctantly, Ezra rose from the bar and let him back to the office.

Ezra's private space wasn't what he'd expected. While the common areas of the speakeasy were distinguished and elegant, the office had a far more relaxed feel to it. Formal, but in a laid-back southern manner. A large oak roll-top desk, a couple of leather chairs with the drinking table sitting in between. And in the corner, an antique card table. Definitely a cut above those used by the patrons. This was suitable for at least six players to enjoy a poker game in style. He was sure it was well used.

"Is it safe to talk in here?"

"To my knowledge, there is no one listening in any hidden alcove."

Chris stared at him for solid minute, neither man speaking.

"If this was the reason for your request, I am willing to concede you have greater patience if it will end this episode."

"Josiah says I can trust you. I'm not sure he's right."

"He is above reproach. He is also a poor judge of character."

"What do you know about dirty cops?"

"Primarily, that there appears to be an abundance of them. Really Mr. Larabee, common knowledge."

"The Inner Circle?"

"Rumoured. Mythical."

"No. Fact. Fact that got Stephen Travis killed."

"Why don't you share with me what other facts you have. Perhaps I can clarify a few matters."

Chris wasn't sure why he was hesitating. The whole point of coming here was for information, and he doubted the little they had was going to be news to Standish. "We don't have much that we could go to court on. Names of some of the guys down the food chain, and a decent idea who's at, or at least damn near to the top. Stephen Travis's notes would help."

"Inevitably. Shame they have disappeared."

"There are some out there who think you know where they are."

"Fascinating."

Chris sat back in the tall leather guest chair. "They seem to see it as strong odds." He had the uneasy feeling the man knew he was bluffing.

"I wouldn't put a significant sum on those odds, given the outcome would be impossible to prove." He had picked up a deck of cards from his desk and shuffled, flipping the top card occasionally, always turning up the ace of spades. "I cannot say emphatically where they might be, but I'm quite certain they are in good hands. What I can tell you is why he was killed. He found much more than just information. He found the Bible."

Chris stared at him with a blank face. "I take it you're not talking about a King James version."

"Records, dates, exchanges. Enough material to blackmail half the officials in town, at every level of government, law, and business. The possessor would be unstoppable should he choose to make use of the information."

Chris's eyes went black. "So, you figure it's your key to control, and you aren't letting go of it."

"How can I let go of that which I do not possess."

"I don't like being lied to Standish."

"And I don't like being threatened. Assuming, and I concede nothing, I have the book, why on earth would I pass it on to you?"

"Because I'm giving it to Travis."

"Which would in short order get him killed."

Chris tried to decide whether Standish was using the claim to try to discourage him, or out of a genuine concern.

"Further," Ezra continued, "I have only your word concerning that intention, with no evidence to encourage me to accept that you will follow through."

"And yet you expect me to trust you. Most people would say that was the fools move."

"I avoid doing what most people do. There is so little excitement on that route. I shall consider what you said, and in the unlikely event I should discover the item in question, I will consider contacting you. Now, if you will excuse me, I have an enterprise to watch over and since you refuse to purchase a drink, I think it would be best if you would to vacate the premises."

Chris stood slowly. "Don't cross me Standish. You will not be happy with the result."

"I could offer the same caution."

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 _ **TBC**_


	5. Chapter 5

Several frustrating days later the detective trio sat in their office reviewing yet again the few facts they had. JD Dunne had joined them as part of the deal he made with Buck before turning over the notes he had from his time working for Travis. There hadn't been much there, other than confirmation that Detective Henderson was definitely a less than honourable man. Snippets of interviews from people who'd been victim to his shakedowns and protection rackets. Stories of physical threats or assaults. All hearsay. Nothing that could begin to be verified, and nothing to establish how well placed in the hierarchy the man was. But it was enough to reassure Chris that they were at least working in the right direction. Question was, who was Henderson taking orders from?

JD had been fairly quiet most of the time, listening to the men reason things through, and taking copious notes on the discussions. None of it was intended for the newspaper. These men, these stories. This was going to be the basis for the novel that would put JD Dunne on a par with Hemmingway. He knew now for certain, he was going to be the next great American novelist. But, to get to that point, he needed to experience some of all of this first hand. And he figured he had just the way to do it.

"Maybe I should go talk to him?" JD offered.

Chris nearly choked on the stale sandwich he was eating. "Are you out of your mind? He'd eat you alive."

"He's right kid. Unless someone fished your body out of the river, we'd never see you again."

The young man couldn't disguise his anger at their dismissive and condescending response. "I'm no piker!I was taking care of myself long before you guys showed up."

"Nobody's calling you a coward, kid." Buck tried to calm the young man.

"You haven't been up against someone like this. And before you get yourself too worked up, I'd have had the same reaction if Buck or Vin had been stupid enough to make that suggestion. You don't confront men like Henderson unless you're backed into a corner on it."

"Guys like that are like snakes JD." Vin added. "You may think you are the one doing the handling, but the bastards will strike without any warning, and there won't be damn thing you can do about it after the fact."

Buck sought to soothe the ruffled feathers. "It's a gutsy offer to make, but I think we need to be a bit less obvious in our approach."

"Don't hear any of you coming up with a plan." JD tried to keep the pouting tone out of his voice, with limited success.

Chris nodded. "Working on it." He was about to add more when the discussion was interrupted. He was surprised to be disturbed at this time in the evening by a phone call but reached across the desk to grab the receiver.

"Damn. Mr. Larabee, I strongly recommend that you and whoever is with you to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible."

"Standish? What the hell-"

"This is not the time to discuss this. Leave! Now!"

Chris didn't have time to reply before he heard the squeal of tires from outside. "Everybody down!" Reflexes had three of them on the floor instantly, and Buck reached over and dragged JD down as the bullets sprayed through the room.

"Anybody hit?" Chris was on his feet the second things went quiet. He didn't expect the shooters would be back. That wasn't how things were done. He looked through the remnants of what had been a new window, relieved to see no one had been on the street at the time. The car was long out of sight. He turned back to retrieve the phone to question Standish and saw only shards of metal and plastic on his desk. "Shit. Anybody hit?" he repeated.

"No, we're OK." There was silence as he looked over at the others. Vin was moving, but JD looked stunned. "Kid, you OK?"

He ignored the question, suddenly jumping to his feet and turning to face Chris as a rush of adrenaline fueled his actions. "How the fuck did Standish know what was coming." JD questioned, having figured out the call.

"Because there is precious little in this town he doesn't seem to know about."

Buck watched for Chris's reaction to the question he was about to ask. "Know about, or control?"

He thought about the tone of the call he'd had, and the urgency of the warning. "No. He didn't arrange for this. Not unless he is a hell of an actor. Pretty sure we knew about this as soon as he found out."

Vin was looking out to the street. "This keeps up, we might want to think about putting that window guy on the payroll."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Ezra looked up from his desk at the soft knock on the door. Tiny opened it enough to poke his head around the corner. "One of those private dicks is back. Says you're expecting him?"

"Yes. Please show Mr. Tanner in. Thank you Tiny."

The door opened again a moment later. "Thank you for coming Mr. Tanner."

"Call me Vin. Josiah said you wanted to talk me. That makes you a minority around here, since folks are avoiding us these days."

"Given your propensity to attract machine gun fire and grenades, do you really find that surprising?" he asked as he directed Vin to take a seat.

"Hey, been close to a week since anyone tried to kill us."

"Is that a record for you?" Vin answered with a small smile, which Ezra acknowledge with a nod before continuing. "It appears you do not subscribe to Mr. Larabee's philosophy." He pointed at the shot glass Vin had carried into the room. "You seem to be willing to forgo strict adherence to the law."

"Don't mind the occasional drink. Not the government's right to take away that choice. And don't kid yourself. Chris likes his drink as much as the next man."

"Yes, I rather suspected as much. He does like to keep an air of inscrutability around himself."

"Don't know as I'd say it that way. Most people don't come across as an open story. I'm betting that you understand that."

"That Sir, is not a bet I would take."

Vin grinned, please that he'd been right in the assessment. He was surprised that he felt a kinship with Standish. They were nothing alike really. Ezra so flamboyant and larger-than-life while he was far more relaxed and in the background. There was little in common at first look, but Vin was quite certain that given a chance, the two men could become good friends. He had the strangest feeling they had met before, but at the same time, knew that this was a man he would not easily forget.

"I believe the three of you will make an interesting addition to our community. You seem to be ideally suited to each other in this venture you have undertaken."

"How so?"

"Not only do your skill sets seem to mesh, but your characters, too, are perfectly in balance." Vin said nothing, so Ezra continued. "Mr. Larabee is a natural leader. I'm sure during his time in the service the men he served with followed his lead without hesitation. Would have done so regardless of his rank. While Mr. Wilmington is the counterbalance. 'Damn the rules' sort of fellow. Devil-may-care and live for the moment. Behind all that though, a loyal nature and supportive friendship that one counts oneself lucky to encounter in a lifetime."

"Pretty fair assessments, given you've only met them a couple times."

"The trick is to know people before you meet them, whenever possible."

"You've had people checking up on us?" Vin was beginning to feel offended, and at the same time intrigued.

"No, nothing so intrusive. Most of my assessment comes from a well-honed ability to size people up quickly. It is rather essential in my line of work."

Vin relaxed and smiled again. "So, just how do you size me up?"

Ezra's own smile relaxed slightly. "You are the quiet voice of reason." Vin choked on his drink.

"Not too many people would describe me that way." he commented when he caught his breath.

"You look very carefully before you leap. Quietly and quickly weigh out the pros and cons before taking any kind of action. I would hazard a guess that has been a more recently refined skill, most likely from your time in the service?"

Again, Vin said nothing, and Ezra took the cue. "But we all have matters we choose not to discuss, especially with relative strangers."

"The way you seem to know us, I'm not sure 'stranger' is the right word."

"Ah, but I said relative strangers. A fine, but critical distinction."

Vin leaned forward. "Not that this isn't interesting, but I assume you had a reason for getting Josiah to send me here."

"Yes. I apologize in advance for using you as a messenger, but after our last meeting, I was not convinced Mr. Larabee would accept a summons from me, unless it could be presented through a more affable conduit."

Vin stared for a moment, then relaxed his gaze. "Chris will listen to me, more than to you?"

"Precisely. I have a note here for him and ask that you pass it along."

"So, I'm Western Union now?" To Ezra's relief, Vin was smiling as he stood and reached out for the note before tossing back what was left of the drink and heading out. He found himself hoping he was correct in his deduction that Tanner would stay on in this detective venture. He had the distinct impression the rough edges were little more that camouflage, and that the man underneath would prove to be an interesting acquaintance over time, little realizing he was echoing Vin's earlier thoughts.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Buck looked at the note that Vin handed him. "That is some fancy handwriting. Didn't know you knew anyone with that much style."

Vin grinned, but Chris didn't. "Yeah, we do. Wish we didn't." He let out a low growl as he grabbed the paper from Buck. Four days with no new leads and nothing to look into had pushed his bad mood over the cliff. Now, looking at what he knew was a note from Standish, he was wishing he had something stronger than coffee to turn to.

Vin looked at the paper agian. "Sure looks pretty."

"Looks are deceiving. How did you get this?" Once Vin filled him in, Chris reluctantly tore the envelope open. "We are 'invited' to drop by The Ace. God, that bastard is really getting on my nerves."

"Don't think for a second he doesn't know that."

Chris glared at Buck. "Not exactly helping you know?"

Buck laughed. "Didn't know I was supposed to. Face it. Standish has connections we don't. Can't hurt to hear him out. Not like we have anything else to go on."

"What pisses me off is that everybody else seems to know the answers. This would be a hell of a lot easier if Travis would trust us."

Vin looked up from staring at the note. "Not a matter of trust. He's stuck worrying about the rest of his family, and unless he knows they're safe, he's gonna stay out of this. Buck's right. You have to accept the invite."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Chris ignored the offer of a seat when they were shown into Ezra's office. Buck and Vin settled in, noting they had clearly been expected to respond to the invitation. Coffee was waiting for them. "You asked us here. Do you have information you're ready to share?"

"I am a businessman. I share nothing. When it is convenient, appropriate, and profitable, I might be inclined to disseminate information for appropriate recompense."

"Everything have a price for you?"

"Everything worthwhile."

"Well that's just a little sad." Vin observed.

"Not from my perspective."

"Sanchez said there was more to you." Chris tried to keep his tone civil, with limited success.

"Mr. Sanchez sees life through stained glass. It tends to distort reality."

"We're just wasting each others time here." Buck complained.

"Not at all. I find all out our encounters fascinating, and of a nature that will ultimately aid my bottom line."

"You saying you have Information to sell?"

"There is more than one way to turn a profit, Mr. Larabee. Are you certain I cannot interest you gentlemen in something a little more interesting than coffee?"

Buck looked longingly at his half empty coffee cup, wishing it contained something else. But Chris answered before he could express his interest.

"It's illegal."

"It is a ridiculous law."

Chris shook his head. "Doesn't change the fact."

"Do you intend to arrest me?" Ezra gave a hint of his smile, knowing the answer.

"I'm not a lawman."

"Yet you are a man of honour, so no doubt you intend to report me to the appropriate authorities."

"Why? You probably have every copper in the county on your payroll."

Ezra laughed broadly, showing off a sparkling gold tooth.

"That would make my life easier, although significantly less profitable."

"I don't imagine you put up with that." Chris indicated they were leaving and the others reluctantly pushing away from table. "Why did you ask us here Standish?"

"Call it a friendly warning. People are getting quite disturbed by the questions you are asking. People who might elect to find ways to stop you."

"In case you haven't noticed, they've been trying."

"No Mr. Wilmington. If they had been trying, we would not be talking now. And you might want to pass this warning along to your young friend at the newspaper. Mr. Dunne could easily become as much of a target as you three are."

Ignoring the clear message in Chris's glare telling him to shut up, Vin replied. "Can't see why. Not a single question has given us much to go on."

"You may well have stirred up far more than you realize. I strongly advise that you move on to other matters, before things become uncomfortable for you."

Chris's eyes narrowed. "You passing along a message, or is that your own threat?"

"Do I look foolish enough to threaten men such as yourselves? I simply offer advice." Standish stood as well, confirming the matter was closed. He did have one more question. "Satisfy my curiosity, if you don't mind. Before this absurd law came into being you were not opposed to the occasional libation? My guess would be whiskey. Likely Jack Daniels, or a comparable brand. Not that anything is quite comparable to that."

Chris didn't answer, but Buck grinned. "He pegged you fast enough Chris."

Larabee glared at his friend and left without speaking. Vin and Buck were close behind, both laughing silently.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

The remainder of the afternoon was another huge waste of time. No one spoke with them, most people scurrying to the other side of the street when the trio came near. Even the visit to the drop-in centre was a waste of time. The crowd was less than half the usual number, and Nathan said the number had been shrinking steadily since the trio had been coming by with questions.

"They can't all be afraid we're going to finger one of them in this?" Buck wondered.

"No, but none of them want to be around when those responsible decided to take you out of the picture. Gunfire has a tendency to be less than accurate when sprayed from a passing car." Nathan answered.

Vin headed back to his small rooming house flat for the night, deciding to let the other two talk things over at the office. He was fine with whatever call they decided to make on whether or not to keep working the case. He was pretty sure what the answer would be.

Unlocking the office door, Chris stepped in a few paces before coming to an abrupt stop. Buck had to react quickly to avoid bumping into him. His planned comment was cut off when Chris pulled his weapon out. Buck followed suit, looking around to see what triggered the action. It was easy to see what had caused the initial reaction. In the centre of his desk was a whiskey bottle.

Chris swept his eyes around the room. He saw nothing else out of place and couldn't hear anything either. After a moment, he holstered the gun and took a step back to the door. Looking carefully at the lock.

"Not a scratch on it. He picked it like a pro."

"You figure it was Standish?" Buck had moved to the desk and picked up the bottle, looking it over.

"Who else? Doubt he'd trust the delivery to one of his thugs."

"This isn't some homemade panther piss Chris. It's Jack alright. Bottle and seal both look genuine."

"With his connections, I would hope so." he commented while reaching out and taking the gift. "Hell of a nice bribe."

"No. Not a bribe. He wouldn't waste it on you."

"He already did. We can't drink this."

Buck's jaw dropped. "What, you think you messed with it?"

"No. Don't see that as his style."

"Then why?"

"You have heard of prohibition, right?"

"Don't give me that bull Chris. You haven't been dry since the stupid law with through."

"No, but I'm not taking booze from a rum-running grifter either." He moved to put the bottle down when he noticed the slight creasing of the label under his finger. "Bastard. It is fake. The cheap bastard." He made a move to show Buck the label and paused mid phrase. "There's something under here." He sat down and carefully peeled the label back. A small slip of paper rested between the label and the bottle. "Train station locker 743. Key is in Mr. Wilmington's wallet."

"What the hell?" But grabbed at his wallet, opening it and dug between the bills, staring mutely when he found the locker key. "When?"

Chris just shook his head. "When he walked us out? When he picked up your hat to hand it to you? I don't know."

"Why didn't he just give it to me? Or give us whatever the hell is in there?"

"Beats me. Maybe he's just passing this along. I don't know. Come on. Let's see what this is about."

When Buck hesitated, Chris stopped. "Now what?"

"You don't think this is some kind of set up?"

"Thought you trusted him?"

"I did, sort of, until he picked my pocket."

"Did he take anything?" Chris asked with a small reluctant smile.

Buck checked. "No."

"Well?"

"It just feels to tidy. Think we should call the others?"

Chris mulled it over. It didn't make sense that Standish would set them up. If he wanted them dead, and there was no reason he should, he could've done it easily by having someone waiting here at the office. But Buck was right, it did seem that this was coming together a little too easily. And better safe than sorry was quickly becoming his new philosophy.

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 _ **tbc**_


	6. Chapter 6

The late evening hour meant the train station was calm, with the heaviest traffic done for the day. It was an hour before another arrival was due, but there were some folks already at the departure gate. A few more were settled, waiting for friends or family who would be coming in. The locker area in the back corner was unnaturally quiet as Buck and Chris made their way over. 743 was at the end of the top row in the bank of lockers on the side wall. Chris had no trouble opening it and wasn't surprised to find a large sheaf of papers along with a couple of notebooks and envelopes.

"Both of you stay right where you are." Chris started to turn slowly, freezing when he heard the distinct cocking of a pistol. "Appreciate the help Larabee. I figured eventually you would lead us to this. Don't suppose you care to tell us how you got it? Who we should be 'thanking' for the delivery? I thought Standish had it, but he would never give it up."

"Detective Henderson. It's true then, the whole smoke and fire cliché"

"Before you get ideas, let me tell you five more of my men are out front. You make a move, they start shooting. Lots of women and kids out there. Be a shame for a gun battle between the good forces of the law and representatives of the criminal element to turn out so bad."

"And which side of that battle would you claim to be on?" Buck growled but stayed still. Chris stared, eyes narrowing as he slowly responded to Henderson waving him away from the locker.

"What all is in there?" he asked, already fairly certain of the answer.

"The usual. Photographs, notes. Enough to put an end to my career, not to mention a few politicians and judges." He looked at the pile, smiling. "Mine will get burned. The rest, that's my new insurance policy."

"Was it worth it all? Those papers really all that good?" Buck sought to stall, hoping some kind of plan would come to mind.

"You have to ask? There is enough material in here to make me the most powerful man in town. I'm gonna be legendary."

 _Great_ , Chris thought, _on top of everything else he's got an ego the size of Texas. Lunatics are so much fun to deal with._

"Worth killing a man for?"

"Worth killing many men for Larabee, as you'll find out soon enough. Besides, young Travis had a truly annoying streak of morality to him. I offered him a way out, but he refused to take it. His old man is the same, which is why I imagine the two are going to be reunited – soon. Might need to add that kid friend of his to the list as well, just to be sure. On that subject, gentlemen, I think leaving through the back is our best plan, don't you?"

Chris's faint hope for assistance faded when he turned the corner to the main lobby and saw Josiah and Nathan standing with two of Henderson's men. It was clear they had been given the same warning about innocent bystanders. Quietly, they all moved toward the back, each watching for any distraction that might give them a chance. Hope faded further when they got through the door and saw the police van waiting for them. Panelled and dark, obviously not something they were going to walk away from alive if they stepped inside.

Chris could see no reason to make this easy. "You can't expect us to get in there without a fight."

"No. I expect you to do just that. It will make our self defence claim so much more credible."

"Tell me something, Detective." the Southerner's voice startled them all. "Are you ready to be the first of your men to die today?"

Ezra stepped from the shadows with a small gun pointed directly at the crooked cop. "There are more of you than I had anticipated, and yet the decision of who to kill first is disturbingly simple."

"You have got to be kidding me? You willing to die to try to help these guys Standish? Thought you were smarter than that."

"Yes, I would've guessed that myself. Apparently, we are both poor judges of my character."

Henderson chuckled slightly, then with surprising speed turned his gun on the gambler. Ezra was a split second faster and fired first before dropping to the ground himself. Another shot rang out from above, and another man fell. Chris recognized the sound of the rifle. So that was where Vin had vanished too.

The ensuing skirmish took almost no time. Another cop fell to Vin's rifle, while three more went down being tackled by Nathan and Josiah. Chris recovered Henderson's gun, along with a second weapon he tossed to Buck. The remaining men surrendered quickly.

"Have to admit Standish, you were the last guy expected to see back here after you set us up." Buck was torn between gratitude and anger, but anger was winning. Chris looked to where the gambler had fallen, ready to make his own comments before he realized Ezra hadn't moved.

Nathan came to the same realization and the two men rushed to his side, while the others began to herd their prisoners into the police van.

Chris rolled Ezra over. "Dammit Standish. Say something." He stopped. A red stain was spreading rapidly, stark against the tailored white shirt. "Shit. Nathan, can you help him?"

He didn't take the time to answer right away as he pressed firmly on the wound, trying to stem the blood flow. "Get inside, get him a meat wagon. Fast." Nathan looked to Chris. "Now Chris! It's bad."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

The hospital waiting room was too small for the anxiously waiting men. Buck had escaped the claustrophobic space to flirt with one of the nurses, but his heart wasn't really in it and he was back in short order. The congestion only got worse when JD charged through the doors.

"What happened? Why didn't you call me? Best story in years, and I missed it."

"Yeah, maybe you can get your scoop writing Standish's obituary." Buck growled.

"What? He's dead?" JDs face fell. "Shit. Nobody told me."

"He's not dead JD. At least they haven't told us that." Vin offered faint hope. "But he's hurt bad. How did you find that we were here?"

"Was down at the cop shop. Place is going crazy. The feds have moved in and taken over the whole show, trying to figure out who can be trusted."

"Nobody can." The voice from the door caught them all off guard.

"Judge Travis. Didn't expect you here."

He didn't answer but took Chris by the arm and let him to a corner.

"Business first. You have the stuff from the locker?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Those bastards are down at the station trying to cut deal so fast we can hard to keep up with them."

"Yeah, I've got it. It's safe. Nobody's getting it until I know what's going on."

Travis stared at him for a moment before slowly nodding. "Yeah, you probably are the best person to keep it. At least for now." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "How's Ezra?"

Chris had to fight to keep the shock off his face. "Ezra? That seems damned for familiar."

"How is he?" Travis demanded quietly.

Chris relented. "Bad. We haven't heard more, but Nathan kept saying he was losing too much blood. I'd guess the bullet was too damn close to his heart."

Travis closed his eyes, grimacing at the news. "Stupid son of a bitch. What was he doing there anyway?"

"Saving our asses and as it turned out." Chris lowered his voice as well, even though he knew there was no one who would overhear this who didn't already have the information. He did drop to a whisper for the next words. "He's your undercover man?" Travis didn't react. "Well give me another explanation." He looked at Chris then turned away.

"You have got to be kidding me." Chris grabbed his arm, spinning him back. "He's a fed?"

"No. Not officially. Said an honest paycheck would be a scandal to the family. He is the best source of information I've ever had. Very selective about it, and he has to be damn sure of his facts before he turns anyone over. But I never got a bad tip from him."

"His way of thinning the competition?"

"What do you think?"

Chris paused before answering. "I think if he was that self-serving, we'd all be dead now."

Travis nodded. "My opinion, he's atoning for something. Can't bring himself to go straight but doesn't want to sink as far as most of these guys do."

"So, he's the one who tried to save Stephen?"

"Yeah. Took a hell of a risk."

"Who knows about him?"

"As of right now, you and me. I'd like to keep it that way." He glanced at the others who were all waiting. "Not saying they'd sell them out…"

"The but the fewer that know, the better. They'll figure it out sooner rather than later. A couple of them may have already." He thought again of how much Josiah trusted the man. And Vin seemed to feel the same way. "They aren't stupid."

"Good. Then they know how to keep quiet if they do add it up."

Chris turned at the sound of the door opening and saw a tired, unhappy looking doctor coming toward them. _May not be any need for secrets_ , he thought.

"Are you family for Mr. Standish?"

"Close enough." The doctor looked like he wanted to question that response, but merely shrugged.

"He's a stubborn son of a bitch. And lucky. Half an inch and I would've had a much quieter evening. As it is, he's weak and he's lost a lot of blood. He's not out of danger but I'd say he's got at least a 50-50 chance, if we don't get any complications."

"Those sounds like odds he'd be willing to take." Travis smiled

The waiting room relaxed noticeably after the doctor left. JD sat down to write up his update to call into the newspaper. Buck watched him for a few minutes before switching his attention over to Tanner.

"Nice bit of shooting back there, Hoss."

Vin gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. "Not as clean or fast as I used to be. A bit out of practice."

"Those are unique skills my friend, and then there's your ability to find just about anyone, anywhere –"

"You seem pretty good at that yourself." Buck raised an eyebrow for his question. "Well, you found me."

"You ever think maybe you wanted someone to."

"Maybe I did."

"That mean you can stick around? Me and Chris could use the help."

"Looks to me like you've got a good team." Vin replied.

"Two people ain't exactly much of a team."

"I count better than double that. Nathan and Josiah look to be in. And the kid would follow you around like some lost little puppy given half a chance."

"It'll get him killed." Buck was surprised by how much that realization concerned him.

"I think he's got more on the ball than it looks. Seems like he's a fast learner, too."

"Maybe. As for Nathan and Josiah, well they are helpful, but not sure either one would want to join up with us. Besides, we'd don't even know if there's gonna be enough work for us."

"But you want me to sign on any way?"

Buck grinned and shrugged. "You doing anything else?"

Vin grinned back. "Not really."

Chris walked back to them. "You talk him into staying past this first job?" he asked Buck. He took a look at the silly grins and smiled slightly himself. "Good. Just talked with Travis and it looks like we might be getting some fairly steady work."

"I'm not signing on to be a G-man."

"Relax Buck. No one in their right mind would ever imagine us as federal agents. Travis is looking at having someone outside the normal investigation circles. Someone who can be used on this type of case, watching the watchers."

"And who's gonna pay for that?"

"He said not to worry. We won't be getting rich, but we should be able to get by. And we can use Nathan and Josiah if they want to earn a bit more for that shelter of set up of theirs."

Buck glanced across the room to where JD was again sitting quietly, scribbling something into his notebook. "We might be able to use the kid sometimes too. He seems to have good contacts to the newspaper, and I hear he's a fast learner."

"First thing he needs is to learn to keep his head down and that enthusiasm in check, but if you can teach him that, I think it could work." He sat down heavily in the closest available seat. "Why don't you guys head out. Take the others and grab something to eat."

"What about you?"

"Want to stick around until Standish wakes up."

"That could be a while." Buck replied.

"So, bring me back a sandwich before you go home."

"Is he in trouble? Is that what you were talking to Travis about?" Vin asked. "Because if he is, I should be as well. Ain't right to use this as an excuse to shut him down. It ain't fair."

"Relax. He's not in trouble. Likely get a slap on the wrist, as much to make sure no one mistakes him for some kind of do-gooder or something."

"Yeah, something like this gets out, it could ruin his reputation."

"I imagine it's already out. Doubt he'll have trouble from it though. From what Travis said, a lot of people on both sides of the law will be relieved Henderson is dead. Standish is going to be a hero to all of them."

"Sounds like he knows how to land on his feet, the lucky S.O.B."

"If he was lucky, he wouldn't have a bullet hole in his chest." Chris replied. Buck looked at him suspiciously.

"Is there something you aren't telling us? You haven't exactly been his biggest supporter."

"No. Look, he's a crook and a con man and I haven't decided yet if I could trust him around the corner. But he saved our lives and took a bullet as thanks. I just want to make sure he's okay and doesn't need anything."

Buck accepted that. "Fair enough. I suppose he could be a good guy to have on our side." _You have no idea_ Chris thought. "Although I guess at the moment it's us in his debt."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

JD paced the hallway, torn about what to do. He should leave. Get going now and get the story back to the paper. It was his chance, no two ways about it. One of the best-known and most liked speakeasy owners takes out a crooked cop, breaking a ring of corruption that had been choking the city. But something about all of it didn't feel right.

"You write it up wrong, you're going to get him killed."

JD jumped at the sound of Buck's voice from behind.

"He's a hero."

"Not on his side of the street. A lot of people of trust him with a lot of secrets. If they think he might be working both sides, they won't be happy."

"You think he's straight? Is this all an act?"

Buck shrugged. "I don't rightly know. All in how you look at it I suppose."

"It's a damn good story Buck. It'll take me out of the role of runner. Get people to stop calling me kid."

"Nah, they'll be doing that to you for the rest of your life. Least I will."

"You're sticking around here?" JD looked excited. "All of you? I could help you know. I see things."

"Especially as a runner. When people don't pay attention to you - well then they talk when you're around."

"But I want to be a reporter."

"Thought you said you wanted to be a writer."

"Well that's the same thing. A lot of writers start off that way."

"Lot of them don't."

"So you're saying if I keep Standish's secret…"

"What secret?"

"Okay, sure. I just pass the story as a crooked gum-shoe brought down by some private eyes, with no mention of anyone else, and you'll help me it was my book? Spending time with all of you is bound to help me."

Buck tried to keep his face serious, but the kid's enthusiasm was contagious. Still, best to keep him from getting to excited. "I'll talk to Chris and see what he says. No promises."

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 ** _tbc_**


	7. Chapter 7

Despite the stillness of the hospital room Chris was having no trouble staying awake. Getting comfortable was another matter. He had dragged a chair in from the waiting room and now sat a few feet from Ezra's bed. He used the light from the window to read for a while, but that wasn't possible anymore. Aside from the nurse checking in from time to time, it had been quiet for several hours. Buck promised to come by with coffee in the morning when he had dropped off a couple of surprisingly good ham sandwiches earlier.

This was so far from anything Chris had envisioned for his life. There was not a scenario he could have dreamt of that would have him sitting in a hospital room at three in the morning desperately hoping that a gambling, rum-running infuriating con man would just please wake up.

No, he should be home. Sharing a bed with his wife and wondering when the kids, at least four by this point, would be waking up. He should be planning on expanding his ranching business, not opening a detective agency. He should be much happier. That's when it hit him. He was happy. Not the way he had been. He didn't imagine he'd ever get that back. But for the first time in a long time, he was, well, if not happy, at least content.

The agency intrigued him. Challenging him in a way little else did. And working with Buck again would certainly keep life interesting. The others looked and felt like a good fit as well. _Not quite a certain about this one_ he thought as his gaze settled back on Ezra. That was when he noticed the movement, and a moment later saw Ezra tentatively open his eyes.

"Am I alive?"

"Does this look like heaven to you?"

"No, but that is not the venue I anticipate viewing when my time arrives."

Chris grinned. "You aren't there either. You're in a hospital Standish, and you should be lying still. I'll get the nurse."

"Wait." Ezra winced at the pain resulting from his effort to reach a hand out. Chris came back to the bed and offered him a small sip of water.

"Henderson?" He asked weakly.

"Dead. The others are the same, or under arrest."

"And your men?"

"All fine. I owe you for that."

He raised himself slightly on the bed, unable to lift his head more than a few inches. "Henderson was a thorn that needed to be removed. I was pleased to have the opportunity. My profit margin will benefit from his absence."

"Uh-huh."

"Are you attempting to imply there could be an alternate motivation for such foolish actions on my part? Clearly, you do not know me as well as you think you do." Ezra rested his head back again. "And the contents of the locker? I trust that all is securely in the hands of the intended recipient?"

"Let's just say for the moment that it's all safe."

Ezra allowed himself a small smile. "And you have familiarized yourself with the contents?"

"Couldn't help but notice your name didn't come up anywhere in there." Chris kept his fact neutral, but there was a glint in his eyes as he asked.

"I assumed you would look. It is comforting to know I was not included." Chris just shrugged, waiting to see what kind of explanation would be offered. "One can only assume that the absence of any so-called evidence serves as testimony to the strong moral fibre of my character."

Chris couldn't help himself – he laughed. "Strong moral fibre? You left a bottle of Jack Daniels on my desk."

"I would do no such thing. It would be an incredible squandering of a valuable and limited commodity."

For a few seconds, Chris almost believed him. He got back to the matter at hand. "There's a lot of serious information in there for anyone to control."

Ezra settled into the pillow to rest. "And you have taken the precaution of taking notes on the contents I presume."

"Enough to be of help when I might need it."

"There is more than sufficient in the collection to kill for – obviously. Anyone claiming custody of those documents should presume they have a drastically reduced life expectancy."

"You didn't seem too worried."

He opened his eyes and looked up at Chris. "You continue to insist I had it in my possession." Chris said nothing but offered a wry smile. "Allow me to assure you that if, and I emphasize that word, I had such information, there would be a widely disseminated understanding of the retribution that would be taken on my behalf should any misfortune befall me or anyone of interest to me."

Chris leaned back in his chair, studying the gambler for a moment. "Just what would you do with them, assuming of course you had them?"

"Nothing that was not required. Trying to use them as evidence would be far too dangerous to far too many people. Information such as what is in those papers –" he paused, looking at the returning smirk on Chris's face, "-such as what I have been lead to believe is in those papers, should be used cautiously. They are best used as a method of keeping one's enemies on a short leash. Control can be maintained as long as the parties involved are aware of the documents, and aware of the consequences of any actions."

"But you think the Judge is in danger."

Ezra frowned, a suggestion of worry crossing his face. "Men like Travis, and I suspect yourself, have an idealized view of justice. Of right and wrong. All very black and white. I live in the grey."

Chris laughed. "Nothing about you is grey Standish."

"Personal style notwithstanding, I have learned through experience and observation how to survive. Judge Travis does not share that trait. He will become a target, as will his family and friends, when he starts to act on the information he now has."

While he was not entirely convinced he was making the right decision, Chris did know he was making the safest one. "Tell me Ezra, how much do you trust this 'Tiny' you have working for you?"

He was surprised by both the informality of the address, and the question. "With my life, on more than one occasion."

Chris nodded. "OK, tomorrow I'll drop off an envelope for him to lock in your safe."

Ezra was glad he was lying down, knowing he would have fallen over otherwise. "Why?"

He counted off reasons. "We can start with the fact that bullet they dug out of you should have been in me, or my men. That counts. Doesn't hurt that you have better security than Fort Knox. You seem to know all the players in this and understand them in ways we don't. Travis has family to protect, and he's too damned noble to see things that way. And, on the subject of noble, making an enemy of the deputy mayor to protect that young lady in your club – that showed a hell of a lot more character than I would have given you credit for."

Ezra shrugged it off. "The deputy mayor is fool, a drunkard and a man with far less importance than he imagines. More relevant to my actions is the fact that it is always advantageous to encourage loyalty in one's employees."

"Sure, you tell yourself that's why you did it." He paused. "Don't kid yourself Standish. If you screw with me on this, if you use those papers, or do anything that gets me or the men I work with hurt in anyway, there will not be a hole deep enough anywhere on this planet for you to hide in."

Ezra didn't feel that needed to be answered. He had no doubt concerning the sincerity of the threat.

"You should know - I spoke to Travis about you." Chris waited for Ezra's reaction, looking at him the news seem to have no effect. Looking closely, he could see a slight narrowing of the eyes as Ezra processed the implications.

"Don't worry. Nobody else knows anything. Including Buck."

"Mr. Wilmington is not my concern. Mr. Dunne is."

"He just thinks you're a hero. Some kind of Robin Hood."

"Good Lord. Steal from the rich to give to the poor? How patently absurd."

"Not sure, but I think Josiah gave him the idea."

"I shall have to speak to Mr. Sanchez about slandering me in such a vile manner."

"Hell of an act you've got going. Hope someday to figure out why."

"That," he said quietly, "is none of your concern."

"It is if we're going to be working together."

"Why would we do that?"

"Travis hired me – my agency. Hoping we can have you on the team. Unofficially of course."

"And give up my career? My income? My entertainment? No Mr. Larabee. I think not."

"Fine. We can play it by your rules, for now. You rest, I'm gonna go get the nurse."

Chris left, and Ezra closed his eyes with a quiet sigh. What was Travis thinking? They barely knew this man and he was telling him about their arrangement? Did he not understand the risk?

Still, Ezra had to admit, if only to himself, there was something about Larabee that inspired that kind of faith. Just as he himself inspired doubt and suspicion. That detail alone insured that the two of them would make for an interesting team. _The possibilities are intriguing_ , Ezra thought, as he drifted off to sleep again.

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 _ **The end (or is it just the beginning?)**_

 _I hope you have all enjoyed reading about this world as much as I enjoyed creating it. I invite anyone who has been caught up in it to join the club. I would LOVE to read other peoples spin on it. I have a few more stories in mind myself, (_ _like you couldn't have guessed that)_ _including a sort of follow-up to this one that will introduce a few other familiar faces. That should be ready pretty soon - about half done. I have written up a little "guide book" for the universe, mostly my outline notes as I created this. If anyone is interested, I can either post it on our M7 Facebook page, or as a final chapter in that story. Or message it to you. Just let me know._


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